Call Me Wing Saver: Fly on the Wall

 

 

Welcome to a monthly Fly on the Wall group post. Today 2 bloggers are inviting you to catch a glimpse of what you’d see if you were a fly on the wall in our homes. Come on in and buzz around my house. At the end of my post you’ll find links to this month’s other participants’ posts.

PurDude came home for a few weeks at the end of last month and the beginning of this month. When he walked in the door, I noticed that he looked different, he had changed his haircut.

Me: You're wearing your hair differently. I like it.

PurDude: Yeah, I'm growing a mullet.

Me: A mullet? They've been out of style for years.

PurDude: They're coming back.

Me: I'm sorry to hear that.

PurDude: You just said you liked it.

Me: Well, it's short, it's not long in the back.

PurDude: Maybe I'll just keep it this length, it's still a mullet though.

Me: Ummm, well, how about we call it mullet- adjacent?

 

 

He and Hubs were talking about the Denver airport, and Hubs was telling a story about how he once went all the way down to the sub-basement to recover his lost luggage.

PurDude: You can't go down there any more, the sub-basement is the headquarters for the illumaniti.

Me: That's not true, it's a conspiracy theory.

PurDude: You can't even get in the elevators, they have guards there.

Me: Come on, you don't think that the basement has been taken over by the illuminati?

PurDude: Oh, I know it.

Me: You know it? You have, like, illuminati radar?

College Boy came to visit. We had already eaten so he decided to walk to a restaurant down the street from us and got a quesadilla. It was gigantic, and he got fries too.

When he came back in, I went to sit with him in the kitchen. It was clear he'd gotten high on the way back home.

College Boy (after eating a ton of food): Mom, I ate the fries and half of the quesadilla. I think I'll wrap up the other half and have it for dinner tomorrow, I'll be over but I'll be really late again.

Me: OK, just stick it in the fridge.

About 20 minutes later, I was upstairs, when College Boy came to find me.

College Boy: Mom?
Me: Yes?

College Boy: I have something to tell you.

Me: OK.

College Boy: I just ate tomorrow night's dinner.

LOL.

It was freezing and miserable outside, Hubs, PurDude, and I were inside watching Purdue basketball. They were losing.

Hubs had to run out and pick up College Boy. When he came back, Purdue was winning.

Me: Go stand out front.

Hubs: Huh?
Me: They were losing when you left, and now they're winning.

Hubs: And?

Me: You need to go back out. 

Hubs: I don't think so.

Me: It's the least you can do, come on, take one for the team. 

Hubs: The team's just going to have to figure out how to win without me freezing my face off.

Me: Fine, keep your face, some team player you are . . .

I was working on the blog, so I set the timer on the microwave to remind me to preheat the oven to 350 so I could get dinner into the oven on time.

The timer went off, I got up, set the timer to 350, and sat back down.

In just under 4 minutes, I finally realized what I'd done.

Cajun Potato Wedges

I was trying out a new recipe for Cajun Potato Wedges. The heat issue is tricky around here in terms of preference. 

They looked good, it was taste test time:

Hubs: Oh, those are really hot. 

PurDude: These are nowhere near spicy enough.

I guess all we needed was to find Baby Bear's porridge potato wedges.

PurDude wasn't feeling well when he first got home, his throat was really sore. He put on a mask and took a Covid test, which was negative.

On his second day, his throat was worse. I was concerned he may have strep throat and with Thanksgiving in just 2 days, insisted he go to an urgent care. He was not happy with me when he came back. His throat was red but he had no infection.

Of course, on Thanksgiving Day he woke up with a bad cough, his chest was sore from coughing. I rounded up all of our cold medicine, and was in the kitchen with College Boy reading the labels. 

Me: Looks like most of these expired in 2020.

College boy: Those won't do him any good.

Me (looking at the last bottle): This one expired in 2013.

College Boy: Oh, you should keep that one.

Me: Why?

College Boy: It might be worth something some day, it's an antique.

I really wanted to get PurDude some relief. I called all of the local grocery and big box stores but, of course, they were closed on Thanksgiving. 

College Boy suggested I call a gas station up the street and see if they were open, and if they carried any cold medicine.

Me (on the phone): You're open today?

Nice guy who answered the phone: Yes, until midnight.

Me: Do you happen to sell any cold medicine in your little mart there?
Nice guy who answered the phone: Let me go look.

Me: You don't have to do that, we'll come in.

Nice guy at the gas station: No problem. Yes, we have night time liquid, day time liquid, pills . . .

Me: That's great, thank you.

Nice guy at the gas station: Let me warn you though, they're not cheap.

Me: That's OK, nothing else is open, we're desperate, see you in a few minutes.

I hang up the phone and College Boy and I both look at each other, then we both break out laughing.

College Boy: Why did you tell him that? How much do you think they're marking that stuff up as we speak?

Turns out, you could by a small house for what they charged. And it turns out I was more than happy to pay the price.

The family was watching football in the den when I came downstairs. I went into the kitchen and turned on the light to check on dinner.

Me (looking over at the counter): Oh, I just found my glasses.

Hubs: I didn't know they were missing.

Me: Neither did I!

A fly on the wall this month would have seen me becoming an acrobat. Although not on purpose.

I was making Teriyaki Wingettes for the family. I bake them ahead of time, then heat them up on the grill. 

Of course, just before I lit the grill, it started to snow. Too lazy to put my shoes on and off each time I had to go out there, I put my flip flops on, taking them off and leaving them on the little rug at the sliding doors to the deck. Perfect.

The final time I went out, to bring the wings in, I didn't take my flip flops off at the rug. I took one step onto the kitchen floor and started flying through the air, headed for a hard crash onto the wood floor.

Did I try to put my hands down, break my fall? Nope. All I could think of was having nothing to put on the table for dinner. So with my left hand I threw that huge plate of wings onto the counter.

Saved the wings. Every one. Myself? Not so much.

 

 

 

Now click on the links below for a peek into some other homes:

Menopausal Mother

Cajun Potato Wedges

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
4 medium potatoes

4 TBSP butter

1/2 tsp cayenne pepper

1/4 tsp paprika

1/2 tsp garlic powder

3/4 tsp salt, divided

1/4 tsp pepper

OPT: ketchup or sour cream for serving

Directions:
*Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Grease a large (15 X 10) baking sheet.

*Wash and dry the potatoes. Cut in half, lengthwise, then cut each half into 4 spears, Place in a bowl.

*Melt the butter. Mix with the cayenne, paprika, garlic powder, 1/2 tsp salt, and pepper. Pour over the potatoes and mix so they are all coated (using your hands is the easiest).

*Place the potato wedges, a cut side down, singly, on the baking sheet. Bake for 25 minutes.

*Flip the potatoes over, sprinkle with remaining salt, and bake another 20 minutes.

*OPT: serve with ketchup or sour cream.

Seeing Red: Monthly Poetry Group

 

 

Last Friday of the month is for

Monthly Poetry Group to rhyme.

Diane, Mimi, and I take turns,

Flags is the theme this time.

 

As usual, today I'll try,

a poem to write . . . or fudge.

Whether I'm successful or not,

you get to be the judge.  

 

Seeing Red

Flags are flying everywhere,

they're loyalty on display,

Country, college, favorite teams,

solidarity with loved ones, gay.

Rev your engines, hit the gas,

when it's speed that we embrace.

Faster, faster, 'til we see,

checkered flags that end the race. 

And when I'm at a cookout,

trying everything's a feat.

But I throw in the white flag when 

there's no more I can eat. 

 

Pineapple Jalapeno Cole Slaw

Morals and values at issue,

our politics are a disgrace.

Our freedom is in jeopardy,

unless we win this race.

'Cause though they aren't physical, 

I see red flags everywhere.

They signify grave danger, 

unless we vote with care.

 

Before you go, stop by these blogs for more poetry:

 

 

Unhelpful by Diane of  On the Border and Messymimi's Meanderings

 

  

Pineapple Jalapeno Cole Slaw

                                                                       ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 bag (16 oz) tricolor cole slaw mix

1\4 of a red onion, finely chopped

1 jalapeno pepper

1 can (8 oz) pineapple tidbits

1/3 cup apple cider vinegar

3 TBSP honey

3 tsp pepper jelly

Directions:

*Place the cole slaw mix in a large bowl with the red onion. Set aside.

*Cut the top off of the jalapeno, then cut in half, remove the seeds and chop into small pieces. Add them to the bowl with the cole slaw mix.

*Drain the pineapple tidbits, reserving the juice. Slice the tidbits in half and place on paper towels to continue to drain.

*Whisk together the apple cider vinegar, the reserved pineapple juice, the honey, and the pepper jelly. Pour into the bowl with the cole slaw and mix well.

*Gently mix in the pineapple tidbits. Cover and refrigerate for at least an hour, gently stirring once or twice. 

*Keep leftovers covered in the refrigerator.

 

Screen for Humanity

 

It started with a distraction. 

Yes, something just that simple. It could have ended right there, faded away without more than a passing thought, but it didn't. Because, as I said, this was just the start.

In the morning, I happened to look up while in PurDude's bedroom.

But then that afternoon brought a text from College Boy that took my breath away. And had me looking at the morning's distraction with new eyes.

And the evening? In the evening it was the national news.

So, the beginning:

That morning, I'd brought towels and toiletries into PurDude's room. I was leaving them on his bed as he'd be coming home soon. Why I didn't just leave it all there and walk out, I don't know. But I sat down on his bed and looked up at the bulletin board that had been on his wall for years. At the very top was a commendation from his job. He'd been a lifeguard in high school, and had continued in the summers when he was home from college.

He had saved a life. 

I hate hearing that fact diminished by those who say that first responders specifically (but lifeguards and many others too) are just doing their jobs when they save a life. They may just be doing their jobs, but these are jobs that they chose, study for, train for, and practice. They know that an integral part of what they will do is to take action when someone's life is at risk. It is an awesome responsibility.

Truth is, someone is still walking and living and doing all things large and small in their life because at their moment of need, someone came to their aid. There is enormity in the miracle of that, brought about by people who value humanity enough to take on protecting it.

In a strange coincidence, that afternoon brought me the exact opposite story. One of someone no longer walking and living and doing all things large and small in their life. It wasn't because first responders hadn't come to his aid, they did. It just wasn't enough.

College Boy sent me a picture that he took outside his work at lunchtime. "Awful car crash right by my work," he texted, "see the helicopter, someone is getting airlifted. I think someone died." We texted back and forth a bit, both of us deeply affected, expressing how heartbreaking it is to see that kind of response, understanding the seriousness of the situation, and hoping everyone would be OK.

They weren't. A motorcyclist was airlifted to the hospital but didn't make it.

Neither of us knew the people involved in the crash, but that didn't matter. When you are witness to a moment like this, even if it's just through viewing the scope of the aftermath, how do you not take a moment to acknowledge the frailty of life? The reality of the abrupt ending of a human life on an anonymous Friday at lunchtime? How do you not empathize, right down to your bones, with the family and friends about to get that phone call? Our humanity demands it.

Juxtaposed with that evening's proof of the pervasive rise of the opposite, man's inhumanity to man.

We were out on the deck having a drink and some appetizers. It was supposed to be a relaxing end to the day. 

Sweet Hot Mango Dip

 

But I had just shut off the national news. In the past month, we've been aware of not just the growing number of mass shooting, but additionally, the shocking rash of executions of kids guilty of just one thing, making a mistake. As with mass shootings, each one is an assault not just on our way of life but, more personally on our sense of safety and our emotional health.

People, everyday citizens, are shooting children for ringing their doorbell, turning around in their driveway, mistaking a like car for their own, or allowing a basketball to roll onto a neighbor's lawn. 

I'm a gun control advocate. No, we don't want to take away all guns, but we do want, we demand, responsible gun ownership. Actually, I take that back, I DO want to take all assault weapons from citizens. For all other gun sales (including shows and private sales) there must be laws, national standards, including screening, mandatory safety, instruction, and regular reviews.

The first step is screening. We need to screen for criminal records, and specific (but not all) mental health conditions. As much we, as a society, like to blame the mentally ill, truth is that not all shooters are mentally ill, and very few people with mental health diagnoses (about 25% of our adult population) are violent. 

But what the morning, afternoon, and evening of just one day brought me to is a question.

If a fundamental respect for human life, all human life, is not an involuntary function in someone, like breathing and blinking, then I need to know.

Basic humanity. How do you screen for that?

Sweet Hot Mango Dip         

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1/2 cup onion and chive cream cheese, softened

1 cup sour cream

1/4 cup pepper jelly

1 ripe mango

chips or crackers for serving

Directions:
*Whisk together the cream cheese, sour cream, and pepper jelly.

*Peel the mango and remove the pit. Slice a few pieces and refrigerate for garnish.

*Chop the remaining mango (small pieces) and fold into the dip, cover, and refrigerate for an hour.

*Top with the reserved mango slices and serve with chips or crackers of your choice.

Sliding Past the Holidays

 

 

All upcoming holidays are canceled. For the foreseeable future. Yes, it pains me to say that.

And it's because of the food. Which hurts even more.

It all started with Thanksgiving. It was a traumatic experience fraught with illness, freezing cold, unexpected babysitting duties, and an almost dirty house. 

And although it all worked out in the end, that entire week was . . . a lot.

Then right around the corner came Christmas. Let me tell you about Christmas.

Why now? As an explanation of sorts, or a justification maybe, of that whole holiday cancellation thing.

As I explained in my Thanksgiving post, I'm a planner. The groceries are purchased and the tasks, what I need to defrost and when, which recipes I can make in advance, what time to take the turkey out, and what time it needs to be in the oven, all scheduled on my calendar to ensure optimal family time on the day of the holiday.

The problems started with the stuffing. I use a hot sausage in mind, and couldn't find any in the stores. I thought chorizo would be a great substitute and went with that. But 3 days before, when I went to cook the chorizo as I would the sausage, it wasn't cooking, but melting and burning. I googled and found that it comes precooked. So I just mixed it in with the rest of the stuffing ingredients.

The cleaners were scheduled that day. Since we had heat in the house, they actually did come on schedule this month, and I babysat no one.

But for the next few days, that stuffing was bothering me. It was niggling at my brain. I know what cooked sausage looks like, and that was not it. At 11 pm, on Christmas eve, after checking the description of the chorizo I bought on the website of the store I'd bought it in, and confirming it was uncooked, I was up throwing all of the stuffing in the trash.

The next morning, I frantically cobbled together a stuffing based on some leftovers I had from Thanksgiving and whatever ingredients I had on hand.

It was late morning when I realized that I usually have the turkey in the oven by now. I checked my calendar and noticed I'd planned on a 2 hour cooking time. For an 18 pound bird. Yikes.

I yanked the turkey out of the fridge, cleaned, stuffed, and slathered it, stuck it in a disposable tin roaster, stuck that in another roaster, just to be safe, folded the wing tips under so they wouldnt burn, and threw it in the upper oven. Second disaster averted. Phew.

Heading to the last hour before dinner, just before I was going to preheat the lower oven for the vegetable casseroles, I checked the turkey and decided to unfold the wings so the skin could brown. I pulled the oven shelf out as far as I dared, and grabbed my tongs. Reaching for the first wing, I somehow (talented, I guess) pierced not one, but both of the roasters. Grease gushed from the roasters onto the oven door, poured down into the second oven and the drawer below that, splattered all over the kitchen floor, up the side of the refrigerator and the kitchen island.

Did I mention my house had just been cleaned 3 days before?

Anyway . . .

screaming for Hubs, I grabbed another roaster, put the turkey and first 2 roasters into that, moved the turkey to the counter and shut off the oven.

Hubs and I cleaned up as best we could, and I got the turkey back in the oven. 

Anyone know how long you cook a turkey after it's been in the oven for 2 hours and then on the counter for 20 minutes? Me neither.

I went to the table, picked up my much needed glass of wine, and spilled it all over my travertine table. Note to self: when shaking that badly, wine is best consumed via IV.

Dinner was eventually served. As an added bonus, no matter what I tried, we did end up with a fun slip and slide across the kitchen floor. And no one broke a hip.

Oh, and the Pepper Jelly Knots were delish . . .

 

 

Pepper Jelly Knots

 

But here's the thing. Valentine's Day is right around the corner. Followed by St. Patrick's Day. Both holidays that are always marked with special foods.

But this year, I think I'm gonna have to take a pass. Yes, as I said, it pains me to say it, but we all know that bad luck comes in threes.

And I barely made it past bad luck holidays one and two. I'd like to keep my family healthy, my house standing, and my mental health on this side of a rubber room.

So, I think it's in everyone's best interest if, for now, I just put down the oven mitts, and slowly back away . . .

Pepper Jelly Knots         

                                                                                      ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:
1 can (8 oz) refrigerator crescent dough

3 oz cream cheese, room temperature

3 TBSP pepper jelly

Directions:
*Whisk together the cream cheese and pepper jelly. Set aside.

*Cover a baking sheet with parchment paper. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

*Roll out the crescent dough on the parchment paper to about a 10 X 15 rectangle.

*Carefully spread the pepper jelly mixture onto the dough.

*Using the shorter side, fold in half so you have about a 5 X 15 rectangle.
*Cut the dough into 15 approximately 1 inch strips. Tie each strip into a loose knot and arrange the knots on the sheet so they are not touching. Bake for 15 minutes.

 

The Odds: Word Counters

 

 

 

Counting my words again. 

Today my fellow Word Counters and I are sharing our monthly group post. Each month one group member picks  a number between 12 and 50. All participating bloggers are then challenged to write something (or a few somethings, as the case may be) using that exact number of words. Today we all share what we came up with. 

 This month's number is 22. 
It was chosen by Me.

As I've been doing in these Word Counters posts, I've chosen a theme and am using my word count multiple times in keeping with the theme. This month I've chosen the theme, The Odds. You'll see why.

 

~ Defying the odds can be a lot of things. Often shocking, frequently fun, and it always makes for an interesting story.

 

~ I've written about beating the odds before. Remember I said they make interesting stories, well, I've got one to tell today.

 

~ We're not talking even odds here, like if your recipe will come out. Understand the flavors, and you've got a fair chance.

Sweet Hot Orange Sauce

~ With IVF, I was the Luckiest. It took a village, took guts, and it took luck. But I've also been inordinately unlucky.

 

~ Like in Lightening Strikes, I talk about that old adage about lightening never striking (in the same place) twice. Defied that one.

 

~ And who'd have guessed that I'd ever say that TEN YEARS AGO today I published my first blog post, Can I Blog?

 

~ Here's the latest story. First let me remind you that College Boy, after many years of not skating, got a new board.

 

 

 

~ He often buys, sells, and trades albums (remember those?). In a grocery store, 3/4 of a mile away, there's a post office.

~ When he's here in the evening and has something to mail, he'll skate to the store carrying the package (ah, youthful balance).

 

~ The store is partway up a hill, so he turns off into the store parking lot, not pushing the whole way up.

~ But coming home, he cuts through a bank parking lot, taking him out to a sidewalk at the top of the hill. 

 

~ From there he takes the ride home, straight downhill. And that's exactly what he was intending to do when sidetracked by luck.

~ It was evening, the parking lot empty, when he saw something on the ground. Kinda mangled but looked like someone's credit card.

~ He skated to where he'd caught a glimpse of it, hoping to do the right thing and return it to its owner.

~ It was a license. I wish I'd been there when he picked it up and realized . . . it was his. What're the odds?

 

Here are links to the other Word Counters posts:

On the Border 

Messymimi’s Meanderings 

 

Sweet Hot Orange Sauce         
                                   ©www.BakingInATornado.com

Printable Recipe

Ingredients:

1/4 cup orange marmalade

1/4 cup sweet chili sauce

2 TBSP pepper jelly

2 tsp minced garlic

2 TBSP orange juice

2 TBSP soy sauce 

Directions:

*Whisk all the ingredients together.

*Microwave for 30 seconds. Whisk again.

*Microwave for another 30 seconds. Whisk.

*You can use this sauce to coat cooked beef or chicken nuggets, or serve as a dipping sauce with my Air Fryer Coconut Chicken Fingers.